Gaunt Riddles
by S. Syang
Summary: To be unloved, to be unwanted, is a curse. To want something so desperately but never to have it is a step away from death. And to want something so desperately that you would manipulate, deceive, and trick to force it into your hands is death itself.


_Snow covered the streets, flakes still steadily falling from the sky as a bitterly cold wind cut through the air, swirling the powdery white cold around a stumbling figure clutching a tattered cloak around herself. She tripped and fell to her knees, but hastily scrambled back up, muttering something that was lost in the wind. She trudged on, her eyes darting tiredly at the buildings lining the streets. _

_Finally, she reached a large, ugly, square building with high walls, the word "orphanage" barely visible beneath a heap of snow that had piled over the sign. Taking a precarious turn, she nearly tipped over, and she all but crawled up the steps, before collapsing against the large door. Whether if it was on purpose or by chance, her hand hit the doorbell, and a loud toll rang from somewhere within._

_The door opened a few minutes later, and she promptly collapsed. The girl who opened the door wearing a rather shabby apron and holding a glass of golden liquid stood, openmouthed for a moment, before hastily shouting for help. Two women ran in to the entrance hall, and taking no time to gape, having evidently seen this many times before, pushed her inside and shut the door, leaving the snowflakes to swirl alone in their frenzy outside._

_"The poor dear…" the best dressed and rather elderly lady said, peering at the woman breathing shallowly on the floor. "And on New Year's Eve too." She added, shaking her head. "Well, hurry and get her someplace warm, although I don't think that either she or that baby will… well, at any rate, take her to a guest room." She said, grimacing slightly._

_An hour later, the baby was born, and only one of the women remained, holding the tiny child whose eyes were closed, quiet as death, but still breathing. The little boy's skin was a sickening white color, and not one of the three women thought that he had much longer to live. _

_"Tom…" The woman muttered from her spot on the shabby bed, her voice almost inaudible, the word almost incomprehensible. _

_The girl in the apron gave a start._

_"I- I'm sorry?" She said, not sure if she had caught what the woman had said. She was new at the orphanage, having started working no more than a month before, and so it was her that was appointed to watch the stranger. Not that she minded; she was never much for festivities, although she did enjoy a cup of gin every now and then, even considering her age._

_The woman on the bed stirred, and her eyes opened. Her eyes seemed oddly mismatched, and her face seemed heavy even though it was pale and thin, her cheekbones easily visible. Her hair was lank and matted, messy and grimy looking, as if she had not taken a bath in weeks, and although it wasn't gray, the color seemed to have faded away. Although her face held no wrinkles, it was drawn and worn, and although the girl was sure that they were around the same age, the woman before looked much older than she did._

_However, it was the expression on the woman's face that greatly frightened the young maid. It was a desperate, haunted look, a look that showed countless times of being defeated, a look that showed a life of sorrow and rejection. _

_However, the woman's eyes seemed to slide into slightly more focus, and her glance fell upon the baby in the girl's arms. With what looked like great difficulty, she outstretched her arms, and the girl hastened to hand her the baby as gently as she could. A smile fell across the woman's lips, a sad smile, a faint smile, but a smile all the same, and the girl immediately felt herself relax. _

"_I hope he looks like his papa." She said her voice faint as she pressed a slightly trembling kiss to the boy's forehead. _

"_Wh… what are you going to name him?" The girl asked, figuring she might as well find out unless if… well, anyways there was no use in thinking about that. _

"_Tom…" She whispered. "Tom, after his papa." She paused, and seemed to struggle with the words, and her breathing was now becoming ragged and short. "And… and Marvolo." She said. "After my…" she took another labored breath. "After my father." She said finally. "Tom… Tom Marvolo Riddle." She said with the slightest note of finality._

_It was an odd name, but the girl hastened to write it down so that she wouldn't forget it later, although in truth she never did forget that name. _

"_Tom…" she muttered again, and the girl silently wondered if she was speaking of her son or her husband. "Please… don't…" she said, and the girl became increasingly frightened._

"_Er… miss? Are you all right?" She asked tentatively._

"_Stay…" she muttered, her eyes shutting again. Then, her lips moved, but only an odd hissing sound came out. The girl stared, wide-eyed, as the woman hissed again. _

_Then, her eyes snapped open, and her face held – terror? Desperation? The girl had no way of telling. "No, no…" the woman practically sobbed, her face becoming, if possible, even paler. "Never again, never again." She muttered, calming down, but by now the girl was terrified. She hurried out of the room, calling for the matron._

_She and the elderly woman entered to see the strange woman lying perfectly still, her eyes wide open, her jaw slack. They hurried over just in time to see her eyes slide even more out of focus, and then cloud over, before –_

**Gaunt Riddles**

To be unloved, to be unwanted, is a curse. To want something so desperately but never having it is a step away from death. And to want something so desperately that you would manipulate, deceive, and trick to force it into your hands is death itself.

My name is Merope Gaunt Riddle, and this is the story of my obsession, the obsession that would one day come to kill me.

I was seventeen when I first saw him. No, eighteen. It was my eighteenth birthday, but of course neither father nor Morfin cared. They treated it as any other day, and I doubted they remembered; if they had, I am sure they would have made it more miserable for me.

I was not a loved child. Not gifted with strong magic, my father abused me for as long as I can remember. The only thing he had ever given me was the gold locket I wore, a heavy thing, not a work of art, but it was more beautiful than anything else in the house. As my father, I treasured it, but in a different way. He valued the locket for its symbolism, the proof that we were the heirs of Salazar Slytherin, but I treasured it for its beauty.

I am a girl, a woman, and it is natural that I would covet something beautiful in my life. I am soft, and I yearned for love and care, and in the very depths of my mind, I also treasured the locket because my father had given it to me.

It was one of the only times when he had spoken to me, not shouted at me, when he had looked at me without contempt, when he had given me something other than a blow or hex that would send me flying across the room; when he didn't hate me.

It was the only time he had ever shown me anything beautiful, beautiful both to my young, love-hungry mind and also to my eyes, eyes that had seen too much ugliness and not enough beauty. And so yes, I cherished the locket above all other things in my life, until I saw him.

Perhaps even at that moment, I already knew that by looking into the face of perfection, I had sealed my fate. It wouldn't have mattered.

Obsession is a powerful thing.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** o.O Most of this chapter is in italics. Ew._

_Anyways._

_Another story started… but this time, I actually feel like finishing it. Not that the sheer will is enough, of course. I wanted to finish the other two too, but Lily Evan's Diary is going to be extremely long, and I have to think up of ideas for chapters, and I need some sort of ongoing plot for the moment; it doesn't seem like it, but I really am trying to think of something. Also, I do want to wait for the seventh book to come out, and the sixth book has already crushed me by saying that Harry was to go to Godric's Hollow after his break. _

_As for The Path of Asura, I'm out of ideas for that one too, and I'm still researching for more information; I hate writing something and then halfway finding out that I've gotten something way wrong, and my story really doesn't make sense anymore._

_This one, however, I think will be short. No more than twenty chapters at the very most, so it should be simple enough to finish. I have the story completely planned out, and I so I think I'll be able to work on this one more easily than the others._

_Another story will be coming out soon, titled Stained Glass. This story focuses on Narcissa Malfoy, and I think it will be quite long. I'm looking forward to writing it though, although I think I might wait until I get more than one chapter done, so that just in case if I run out of ideas or if I don't have enough time to write, I can put up chapters periodically anyways. I also might wait until I'm finished with Gaunt Riddles; I think I'd too easily neglect one of the stories, something that I'm trying to avoid, but not really succeeding with._

_I really do think that I'm starting way too many things and finishing too little, but ideas keep popping into my head, and I have to get them down. I have an idea for another story as well, actually, but I'm not sure if I want to publish that one, as the main character is my own. I dislike stories with OC characters as focal points, and I think it might be slightly too perversely hypocritical if I did it, but I'll look for some name that's been created and just attach a personality to it, or something like that. If I have the time, of course. _

_In a simple overview, Lily Evan's Diary and The Path of Asura are both on an indefinite hiatus, Gaunt Riddles is hopefully going to be continued on, or at least so I plan, and afterwards, I might have another story or two coming up. _

_Please review if you have time! _

羲丽


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